Just remember to SMILE, SMILE, SMILE...

grant gustin + legs

Blaine Carraway and Seb Gatsby

page 48. → He smiled understandingly - much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced — or seemed to face — the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on /you/ with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.

page 65. → “Look here, old sport,” he broke out surprisingly, “what’s your opinion of me, anyhow?” A little overwhelmed, I began the generalized evasions which that question deserves.

page 71. → “Look here, old sport,” said Gatsby leaning toward me, “I’m afraid I made you a little angry this morning in the car.” There was that smile again, but this time I held out against it.

page 111. → Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was reminded of something — an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever.

page 154. → “They’re a rotten crowd,” I shouted across the lawn. “You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.”

page 154. → The minister glanced several times at his watch, so I took him aside and asked him to wait for half an hour. But it wasn’t any use. Nobody came.

(via blainedarling)

Source: nickgatzby

sebbysmythe:

Sebastian hardly wanted to be here. He came to Paris at his mother’s request, but hadn’t actually expected her to follow through on making him follow her around like a shadow. He wasn’t interested in fashion, let alone watching a bunch of extremely thin girls strut around in heels and big flowing dresses.

His mother finally had enough when he let his head slump onto her shoulder, fake snoring loudly in her ear. “Sebastian, please,” she said, exasperated as she pushed her son back upright.

“Mom, I’m seriously going out of my mind. I don’t care about any of this,” he said, not caring that he was a seventeen year-old boy who was practically whining at this point. “Can I please go? We can have dinner tonight or whatever, just give me some time to do what I want.”

“I know what kind of things and people you would be doing right now if I let you have too loose of a leash, Bastian,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Now how about you just bear it a little longer? I have a feeling you’ll enjoy the next part,” she said, a knowing smile on her face.

Sebastian released an exaggerated sigh and stayed slumped in his chair, looking up at the runway. The lights all shifted and the music changed suddenly. Sebastian almost did a double take when an actual male walked out on the stage. His mother rarely designed for men, so Sebastian was never really wanting to hang out around her office.

He was gorgeous and determined as he strut out onto the stage with his dark curls and intense gold eyes. Sebastian heard his mother laugh quietly from next to him, obviously amused by his expression. “His name is Blaine Anderson. He’s a new model and is here for a Summer music program,” she explained, unprompted. “Like what you see?” she teased.

Sebastian chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Maybe if he didn’t look like a blood-soaked Big Bird,” he commented over the pulsing music.

It was apparently loud enough for this Blaine Anderson to hear, because he then shed the ridiculous jacket, offering Sebastian a much better view of how the shiny red material clung to his muscled form. He definitely didn’t imagine the wink sent his way as Blaine made his turn and walked back down the runway.

Sebastian inclined his head towards his mother, eyes never leaving Blaine’s ass. “That’s mine,” he said lowly, eyes sparking when Blaine caught him staring right before disappearing backstage.

Maybe this whole fashion thing wasn’t as boring as he thought.

(via blainedarling)

Source: spuffina